


Broken Wings

by flowersandrosequartz



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersandrosequartz/pseuds/flowersandrosequartz
Summary: After the almost-apocalypse, Aziraphale if left trying to deal with both the loss of his powers and the feelings he'd rather avoid, as well as an unexpected new companion.Rated explicit for later chapters, although these will be posted with warnings and can be skipped without taking away from the plot.





	Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fanfic I've ever written so I'm sorry for any mistakes or mediocrity, I'd love to hear feedback and I'm always open to constructive criticism. :)
> 
> Also I'm aware that chapters are quite short but it's how I feel most comfortable dividing my work and I'm aiming to update as frequently as I can.

It was warm in the bookshop. Golden light spilled through the windows onto the floor, filling the interior with the soft glow of a summer evening. Most would have simply enjoyed the comfortable aura the weather brought, but individuals with a particularly acute sense of the weather may have felt the slight frigid breeze creeping through the air, whispering of the cold winter to come.

An angel paced anxiously amongst the bookshelves, hands wringing with unease. You see, since his creation thousands of years ago, Aziraphale had been gifted with ethereal powers – the ability to bring about miraculous events if you will. This was a gift that all angels possessed, even those that had fallen from grace maintained their abilities, although now considered to be more occult in nature. This particular angel, however, had recently discovered that this was no longer the case. After the events of the narrowly-avoided apocalypse, his powers were fully functioning, and he was able to switch bodies with his long-term demonic acquaintance with ease. This had allowed the pair to deceive both heaven and hell into releasing them, leaving them now free to exist separately from their respective sides, free to live without the constraints and expectations they were previously bound by. One would assume that this betrayal against heaven was the action that had resulted in the loss of the angel’s powers, however, he had switched bodies once again with Crowley after the trials to return to normal. No, it was an entirely different action that Aziraphale believed to have caused his angelic abilities to disappear.

Avoiding the destruction of both Earth and themselves had been cause enough for celebration to clear a table for two at the Ritz, the perfect way for two old friends to finally relax after centuries of being servants to higher powers. Sat together under the glistening chandeliers, Aziraphale couldn’t help but gaze at the way the light fell onto the demon’s sharp features. Although at first glance Crowley was all edges and angles, there was a softness underneath that could only be seen by those willing to look for it. Admittedly, Aziraphale’s feelings for Crowley were more than what one would consider respect or even admiration. He had wrapped these feelings in a thick blanket of denial for as long as he could remember. Fraternizing with a demon of hell and developing a friendship that had to be hidden from heaven had already taken enough of a toll on Aziraphale’s conscience, admitting he had fallen in love with Crowley on top of all that may have crushed him with guilt. Even if his side never found out, something deep down in the angel feared that even acknowledging his feelings, let alone acting on them, would cause him to fall. But now, sat together revelling in their success and freedom, things felt different. A long-standing truth had finally risen in Aziraphale that he could no longer push away or avoid. He was in love with a demon.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline left over from the almost-apocalypse and subsequent trials, or maybe it was the excess of champagne he had consumed, but 6000 years of yearning had finally overpowered the sea of fear and doubt within the angel. Staggering out of out of the Ritz holding onto each other for balance, Aziraphale had paused his laughter to turn and press his lips against Crowley’s. After a moment of stunned silence, he felt a hand press against his back and the kiss was returned. This had pushed reason through the alcohol in Aziraphale’s mind, causing him to pull back. A half-thought excuse about needing to get back to the book shop had stammered through his lips as he turned and headed down the winding streets of London with haste, leaving the drunken demon standing alone in the street, too stunned to go after him. On returning to his shop, Aziraphale had found himself unable to open the front doors with the click of his fingers as he had been able to do since it’s opening. He had tried again, and then a third time with the same result. Finally resorting to opening the doors manually, the angel stepped inside and slumped against the wall, mind racing. What was happening? Why weren’t his powers working? He stumbled through the shop trying desperately in vain to perform the smallest of miracles. It was just no use. Curtains no longer flew closed, books couldn’t be tidied, candles remained unlit. His powers were gone.

So now here he was, teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, desperate to make sense of the situation. “It was the kiss.” He mused in a shaky voice. “It had to have been. Indulging feelings for a demon of hell, angels have fallen for much less-” He stopped dead in his tracks, blood draining from his face. “Have I... _fallen?_” Before Aziraphale’s mind could come to terms with this possibility, a loud bang rang through the bookshop, dragging him from his thoughts. Spinning on his heels towards the window, the large imprint of a pair of wings was now plastered onto the glass. The angel crept towards the window and cautiously peered out, where a large black bird was lying limp on the pavement. “Oh, good heavens.” He muttered, rushing outside to the injured animal. Crouching down, Aziraphale could see that the bird was still breathing, although one of its wings was bent upwards at a strange angle, broken from the impact. Its eyes turned to look up at him, and the bird let out a pitiful squawk. “Oh, you poor thing!” He cooed, gently scooping the soft mass of feathers into his arms. “Come on, let me see what I can do for you.”


End file.
